Shelter
by RobinsGirlWonder
Summary: Another in the Son of a Woodworker series. August realizes he can't run, but he can't go back. So, where is a man whose lies are literally there for everyone to see going to hide? Set during 2x04 and 2x05. Follows Blink & Embers.
1. Shelter

**Title:**Shelter  
**Verse:**Once Upon A Time  
**Genre:**Drama/Romance  
**Character:**August W. Booth/Pinocchio & Emma Swan (Also, Henry Mills and Belle)  
**Rating:**T for all the feels and the angst you might run into – Warning: There are a couple of August!Dad feels for the Henry, because he's such an adorbs father figure. More on that next week after Tallahassee, though! Back to you in the studio, Bob. I'm also not responsible if you accidentally choke from laughter at some point. There's more humor than I intended originally in this one.  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, but I also regret nothing!  
**Summary:**Another in the Son of a Woodworker series. August realizes he can't run, but he can't go back. So, where is a man whose lies are literally there for everyone to see going to hide? Set during 2x04 and 2x05.

**Author's Note:**Well, that escalated quickly. (Warning, this note is kind of a book.) I have a plan. My beta is totally in on this plan, too, considering her immediate response to Blink was "So, when you write PART TWO THAT I KNOW YOU WEREN'T PLANNING, what do you want to do?" I _live_ with this, folks. I live with my beta constantly putting earworms in my brain. Wooden Swan, eating my brain. Holy crap. So what's that mean for you? Well, you guys have been SO AWESOME and have been really enjoying them, here's my plan. 1) One-shots for the Woodworker series will be two-fold. August Chapter on Wed/Thurs and Emma Chapter Sunday night AFTER ONCE CENTRAL TIME. 2) I promise to give you a one-shot a week. Bam. Done. Sold. Committed. I'mma do it. They might not all be part of this series, but you'll always get something. Chances are, when we hit the mid-season break, I'll start working on the longer fic I had planned in the first place, so I have something for all of us to subsist off of. As if the August withdrawal has not been bad enough. I'm treating this like the mother of all writing prompts, since everything's happening week to week, I think it'll be easy to commit to. I just hope you won't get sick of me… :/ Anyway! Enjoy this next installment!

**2****nd**** Author's Note: **WAIT! Forgot something! Listen to the song Silhouette by Owl City if you haven't already. It is the most August song to ever August. If I ever get back to making music vids, I will be viding it. I even played it the entire time I was working on this fic. And freakin' Once, could one of you production types tell us exactly what kind of bike August has? It looks like an Indian, but I think it's a custom, cause it looks a lot like a Harley Classic, and I still might be wrong. *Is a nerd from too many years of liking characters with motorcycles*

* * *

Hope.

August starts to lose hope that someone might just happen upon him in the woods after a couple of days. Not surprisingly, he's never gotten hungry. That first night, he spent it staring at the stars. He might've drifted off, but he isn't sure.

August is aware that part of his, well, what he would call "Subtle charm," is that he's been a blend of impractical and practical all his life. He's a wooden man now who can talk, walk, breathe and feel pain, but it's all different. On top of the fact that it's magic. He's aware that this means there _is_ magic in Storybrooke now, and he hasn't had any thoughts of going further than the well. He doesn't want to leave, even if the fact that every time he sees his hands, his ankles, anything… it just reminds him of what's happened.

_I'm sorry, it's just… knowing who you are, your __**nature**__…_ Rumplestilskin's words cut then, and they cut even more the longer he's had to think about them, shellacked and made of cedar. Or was it oak? He doesn't even remember anymore. _Trust is a big ask._

August has had enough time to tell himself that he can't leave Storybrooke, but he certainly can't just waltz back into town. The longer he's stayed away, the more that guilt and shame he had knee-jerked away from earlier had settled in. If his father sees him now…

August can't do it. If it makes him a coward, he'll apologize the rest of his life, but _right now_, he _cannot_ let his father see him. Hell, he can't let _Henry_ see it. Kid has lost his mom for the moment – if they aren't back yet, and he's still hoping Emma is already back, maybe just still pissed off at him for not being there when she needed him . Henry doesn't need to know that someone he trusted with Operation Cobra hasn't exactly gotten better. He hates that he had to tell Henry about turning to wood at all.

Cute kid. August likes him. Too much, he knows that. That kid just wheedles his way right into everyone's lives. It's _impossible_ to dislike Henry. How's he supposed to explain this? That kid probably thinks that now that the curse is broken, everything is rainbows and sunshine.

That's why August's plan has been to lay low and figure out the best way back to town, to find what happened to Emma and go help her, dammit. Of course, he hadn't factored in that part of that plan would inevitably mean talking to Prince Charming. About being Pinocchio. And that would bring questions about the wardrobe and how he had aged and… it makes sense why August hasn't moved.

If he's going to be completely honest with himself, then so far, his plan is a bust.

It takes him another two days to wrestle with his guilt and shame that's plainly written all over his body before he finally makes his way back out of the woods and towards the main town again. He's not stupid enough to do it during the day.

He waits until midnight one night before he quietly tromps back down the street, sticking to the shadows like he's Peter Pan with soap. He makes his way towards the library, thinking he'll take an alley that lets him avoid his father's shop. He can't see him. He can't let his father see him like this, he'd hate him. There is the more mature, adult part of him that tells him that's _not_ true, he knows it, but he ignores it and keeps moving.

The sound of someone's back door closing surprises him, and August presses against the door to the library.

It gives, opening easily.

August tumbles through the door and lands on the floor in what can only be described as the most embarrassing drop of kindling possible. He'd love to feel sorry for himself, but instead, a light comes on from the dark second floor, and he scrambles to his feet a bit like a stiff squid on land.

For God's sake, he feels 7 again. And _not_ in a way he'd prefer.

As he hears footsteps coming down the creaky stairs, he makes his way back through the back doors into the actual library. He slinks between the bookshelves, away from the windows. Thankfully, breathing is sort of a non-issue, as he's doing it, but it's not like his chest moves all that much, so he knows he's not making any noise. He just needs to stay quiet, hang out here in the library. Wait, Regina's library.

It occurs to August there might actually be something here he can use.

"Hello? Is there anyone in here?" He hears the door creak closed in the lobby and rolls his wooden-lidded eyes. Dammit, he's left the door wide open, and now, as he hears it close and lock with a thud, he knows he's trapped here for the night. _Genius move._

This is not how August W. Booth rolls, the international man of mystery who rides a custom Indian and doesn't stick around long enough to do more than break the occasional heart and drink more booze than he likes to remember.

He expects the feminine voice to actually get closer, but after a few moments, he hears a lamp turn on at the end of the room. He shirks back, wishing he could disappear into the shelves. He's not ready to see anyone yet.

There's a sigh, and August glances through one of the shelves onto the other side. A brunette is sitting, reading a blue book in her hands with gold lettering along the front. Simple, older printing. "The Swan Princess..." The girl breathes as she reads, and August can't stop the smile he knows has snuck across his features. He's thinking about Emma again. Of course, he doesn't even know the story of a "Swan Princess", but there's only one person who matches that description of the fiery, opinionated girl in the story, who wasn't appreciated for her mind, who didn't seem to fit in… kinda like the Ugly Duckling…

August isn't sure when he's made it to the floor, but he has. He's leaned back against a shelf in the quiet corner, listening to the murmurs of this girl he doesn't even know as she tells the story of a Princess whose family loved her, wanted the best for her...

August doesn't remember the rest of the story when he wakes up in the wee hours of the morning. The lamp has been turned off, it's dark but there's some light filtering through the little bits of newspaper still covering one of the windows.

He forces himself to his feet, shaking away hazy dreams and thoughts of Emma, dreams of the land they both came from, riding horses, taking down a band of marauders together... just a dream. He has lots of those. He tells himself that it's just because he's a writer, he expects them.

The girl is gone, presumably having gone back upstairs.

August sneaks out of the library just before dawn. This time, he tries to think of a place that will allow him the ability to come back to the library later. He knows his best chance of finding Emma and her mother – wherever they might be – is going to be in research at the library, but he can't hide there all day long. Not with someone frequenting it now.

August heads out of the main part of town again, still clad in leather, complete with helmet and gloves. It's worked thus far, as the only person he's seen is someone driving a flower truck, and he seemed oblivious.

It's more by luck than intention that August's walk up an empty road takes him to the stables. The sun has come up, he's had to duck into the cover of the tree line next to the road once or twice as the occasional car passes by, but on the whole, it's easier than the trip to the woods.

Easier to sneak around, but not easier to justify. August doesn't know why he's walking this way, he just _is_. He's wandering, he's lost.

August doesn't like that he's acting like a vulnerable little boy who left his charge behind. He's been telling himself for years he's not that boy anymore.

Proof is in the pudding, though, right? And… his hands and face tell a different story.

August sneaks into the stables just as he hears voices he recognizes all too well.

"This should be fun." The Prince. There's that gut instinct to run again. August fights it as he hides over by the tack room, out of sight while he can hear everything. The Prince and Henry walk by.

"I couldn't sleep." Henry.

"Hey. I know. I miss 'em, too. Now, just think how happy Emma and Snow will be when they come home to find that you've become a _proper knight._" August's heart drops to his stomach. So much for them being back already. "Now. Say hello to your steed."

August falls silent as he listens to the conversation, still pressed against the wall, silent.

"I'll be back to pick you up this afternoon." August tenses, watching as David, well, the Prince, leaves without so much as a look his direction. At least there's that.

August can hear Henry as he chats to the horse, making his way over towards another stall. He can't help but watch the little guy as he grabs a couple of carrots out of a bin, as well as a brush, then heads back. There's a pang of envy August can't help but feel. He's never learned how to ride anything that didn't have a motor and was as close to a mechanical horse as possible. To have someone like a grandfather teach him how to care for a horse? That would've been the best.

Of course, that envy turns to a darker, heavier feeling, as he realizes that Henry's having to talk to himself. With everything that's going on, he's been left alone.

"So, you seem pretty cool." August's thoughts drift back to the leader of Operation Cobra as he talks to the horse, the conversation punctuated by the crunch of carrots. "Always seemed like it'd be fun to ride a horse. Even if you are kinda… " Henry sighs, August can practically hear the nose scrunch up. "I dunno, I figured Grandpa would give me a bigger horse to start out with. Not that… he hears me call him that much. So, you can't tell him, okay?"

Oh god. August can practically feel the sugary cuteness that is Henry Mills, and he doesn't know how he's supposed to sit there and just listen to it while this inexplicable urge to mentor him is begging August to throw himself out there. Why not? Henry could handle it, right?

August is letting impulse get the better of him. Maybe the fact that he'd had all this guilt about not telling Henry, maybe it's not so bad. Henry had thought being Pinocchio was "cool". And August always knew he was a smart kid. Seems a damn shame to start treating him differently now.

He takes a deep breath, stands straighter, prepares to turn the corner and come clean with Henry.

"He doesn't spend a lot of time with me. I mean… I always kinda wanted to help Gepetto and August with stuff at their shop." August stops mid-step, sinking back against the wall again. "August promised me he'd let me help. He's really cool. He's Pinocchio, which is funny, cause my mom has this super-power. She can tell if people are lying." More crunches of carrots. August tries to build up the courage to show Henry why his adoration of August is a fruitless endeavor. "But, I don't think August's ever lied to her. I don't even think he lied about the Pinocchio thing. He's really cool." Henry grabs the brush in hand, August can hear the broad strokes against the horse as it huffs. "If my grandpa was so busy, why didn't he just let me hang out with them? I haven't even _seen_ August, and I figured he'd see his dad and y'know, come tell me about it!" August's heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach. He can't… Henry can't see him like this. "I even told Gepetto!"

He told his father?

August's thoughts shift again. He's gonna need a better plan. Oh, god, what if his dad is looking for him as an _adult_? Granny's Inn is _definitely_ out. There's an immature surge of annoyance that Henry said something, but August pushes it down. It's not Henry's fault. He's trying to help.

"At least he got to have his dad back, right?" August feels the snakes in his stomach turn from annoyed ones to worried ones. Almost… paternal? No, wait, no, that's not what he's thinking. It's just… Henry sounds so broken up, August knows it's because he's thinking of his mom. "I wonder if Grandpa's right. If they're really in the Enchanted Forest. What do you think?"

The horse neighs at Henry, and the boy bursts into laughter, breaking August's train of thought.

The Enchanted Forest? It _still exists?_

Suddenly, August knows what he's going to do.

It's time for another trek out, and this time, August doesn't have a clue how he's going to get there without being seen, but he's sure he'll figure something out.

He tucks his wooden hands into the pockets of his jacket, bows his head and disappears behind a tree. He'll need magic to fix this.

If there's a price to pay to get mother and child back together, he's willing to pay it.

* * *

_**A/N**: Like I've said before! If you liked it, let me know! Read, review, favorite, follow, all that good stuff! And if you're on tumblr, I haz a tumblr with the same screenname! With any luck, I might start posting gifs or something. I am gonna need someone to start gifsetting some of the character convos I keep having in my head. LOL. _


	2. Cloud Cover

**Chapter Two:** Cloud Cover

**Author's Note: **Cannot describe my annoyance at the fandom right now. He's just human. Seriously. That's all the good and bad with it. The guy needed a CRICKET TO FOLLOW HIM AROUND. *Ahem* More thoughts on that are on my tumblr. Also, I promise Wednesday's new fic will probably make you cry. For all the feels. Oh, god, so many feels. I've already written it. Not even lying. I was in such a state of getting hit right in the feels that I sat and wrote the whole thing in an hour. Holy crap. If you review this one fast enough, I might post it Tuesday. :D Okay, screw it, I'll post it Tuesday. LOL.

* * *

If there's a price to pay to reunite mother and child, Emma's willing to pay it.

But honestly?

Captain. Hook.

Captain. _Freaking_. Hook.

Emma's mind seems to still rotate back to the fact that they're following a man who calls himself Captain Hook to some as-of-yet unknown way to get back home. As she walks beside Snow – who, Emma has realized with all the arrows and the sword belt, there's no way she's going to see her as Mary Margaret again – Emma knows she should be radiating mistrust like her mother is. But, she's not.

Emma doesn't like the fact that she feels... ambivalent. She clearly knows she doesn't trust the pirate, she's expecting a double-cross, but she just... her mind is wandering. It's been on a constant state of thinking about twelve different things ever since they arrived in this world. Not that she thinks anyone would blame her, given that she's in a land with _magic._

She hasn't let herself break down since the night after she burnt the wardrobe. That's not in Emma's nature. She doesn't feel like she's really grieved the loss of August, but that might be because there's an inkling of hope in the back of her mind that if there's magic in Storybrooke, maybe there's a way... a _chance_.

Emma has found herself worrying about Henry again. Is he okay? Is he spending time with David, is he safe? Does Regina have him? Emma has to tell herself that she knows, no matter what, that David won't let that happen.

It doesn't change the fact that Emma would give anything to just be back in Storybrooke right now, and out of this screwed up place that doesn't really feel much like the world Henry has been describing to her for months. Seeing the castle had been both fascinating, but ultimately, depressing. If this place was supposed to be wondrous and magic, Emma wasn't seeing its appeal.

"You're doing it again." Snow's voice breaks Emma from her train of thought as the two of them walk at the back of the group. Emma realizes she's been staring blankly at the trail of Aurora's completely impractical dress, and the woman bringing up the rear beside her has noticed.

"Hm?" Emma tears her eyes away and forces herself to look at her mother. Yup. That still feels weird to even think it. "Doing what?"

"You're distracted." Snow shoulders the quiver on her back, the arrows protesting with a rattling. "You've been that way since before we got back to the camp."

"Can you blame me?" Emma chuckles, pushing down her thoughts of August, of the uncertainty of home, of whether or not Regina has gotten her hooks into Henry again. "Had a weird couple of days. I can't _wait_ to get back. I want the biggest mug of hot cocoa I can find and a bubble bath that lasts for hours."

"That's not all that's bothering you." Snow doesn't seem to like the answer Emma's given, because her brow has furrowed in annoyance. "Emma, we talked about this." Snow's hand reaches out, grabs Emma's arm, and the two of them stop. Hook, Mulan and Aurora are still walking, which is just fine by her.

Emma sighs, reaching up to run a hand through her blonde hair and to pull her arm free. She feels grungy, they haven't had a chance to bathe since before they'd left for the castle. No offense to Snow, but she doesn't want to be touched, or coddled, or comforted. She just wants to go home. "About what? I'm _fine_."

"You're not fine. In fact, I'm surprised it took you as long as you did to get Hook to talk. You're not focused, and I told you, I'm your mother, I want to be there for you –

Emma holds her hand up. She can't do that. This whole bonding-with-the-parent-she-didn't-know-she had-thing isn't a bridge she wants to cross right now. "Stop. If there was something wrong, you don't think I'd tell you?"

Snow's eyes narrow in sympathy, as if they've warmed with tears. "_No._ And_ that's_ why I'm worried." Emma doesn't have a response, but she knows that the look on Snow's face has suddenly made her heart twist in pain. "You talk in your sleep."

Emma blinks, the statement catching her off-guard. "Excuse me?"

"You've mentioned August every single night since we got here. But..." Snow shakes her head slowly, her gaze dropping to the ground. "I just don't know why."

Emma's heart thuds in her chest as it keeps sinking further down into her stomach. Wow. She isn't expecting that. She isn't expecting anyone to say his name, and suddenly, that twist in her heart is so intense she's afraid she's going to let that wall down for a second. "August?" Emma's voice is practically gone, so she swallows and tries again. "Why would I mention August?"

"That's why I'm asking. I'm not stupid, Emma, I know you care about him. He's been kind to you, he's been kind to me. He helped you clear my name." Snow tries to smile, but the smile is too permeated by motherly concern. "You haven't mentioned him once, but he's all you apparently talk about while you're sleeping."

More silence. Emma's heart is racing while she's trying to decide what to say next. She sort of just wants to crawl into a hole so she doesn't have to talk about this. She knows she doesn't _have_ to, she can just bury it again. Emma shakes her head, smiling. "I'm just... I dunno, I don't exactly have a ton of friends. I guess I miss him."

"And that's why you're crying?"

Emma reaches up, wiping away the sudden warm tears that are doing _exactly_ what she doesn't want to show her mother. "I... I'm not."

"Please, stop, Emma." Snow reaches up to wipe tears from her daughter's eyes, just like the last time she was crying over August. But, instead of letting her do it, Emma flinches away. "Just _talk_ to me."

"Look, I just..." Emma's throat has closed on her, but she swallows, trying again. "When I was trying to break the curse, he was helping and..." Emma's eyes drop down to the ground. "I think he's... gone."

"You think he left town?"

Oh, god.

"Um... no. I think..." Emma takes another deep breath, her voice threatening to break again. She looks up, letting out air, staring at the sky in the hopes that she won't cry. "August needed magic. He needed me to break the curse, and I didn't do it fast enough, and now I think he's gone." The words spill over as she finally looks to the woman who is one of her few friends, but it hurts to know that she's failed August and now she has to _tell her._

Snow's expression is actually unreadable. "August is dead?"

"I don't know." Emma's voice catches at the end, and she clears her throat, forcing herself to calm again. "I, um," She finishes wiping the tears away, determined not to break down. Especially not in front of her. "I didn't get a chance to check on him, but... he was..." Emma pauses. Snow doesn't know who he was. If she's the one to tell Snow, she and her father will never forgive him. Or Geppetto. He's going to lose his son, isn't that enough? "It looked pretty definitive."

"But, I don't understand..." Snow reaches up and brushes hair behind her ear. "August came from outside of Storybrooke. How could he be involved with the curse if he isn't..." A different look flickers across Snow's face, her brow furrows and she gives Emma a look she'd only seen when Snow was interrogating Hook. Oo. Emma doesn't like being on the receiving end of that look. "Emma, who is he? Is August from the Enchanted Forest?"

Uh-oh. Emma's jaw goes slightly slack, surprised at the turn of events. "I - "

"Emma, you're not the only one who knows when someone's lying. Now, you _tell_ me if August is from the Forest."

Emma has already thought through this mythical conversation a few times, but being faced with it, she's honestly not sure how she's supposed to answer now. So, no one is more surprised than Emma when the words come out of her mouth: "I think so. But I don't know who."

Wow. Suddenly, this feels like being a kid all over again. Is this what having parents is like? Lying again, pulling cons? To be fair, Emma's not exactly experienced with having parents.

"You don't know." Snow's tilted her head, watching her, as if checking for a lie. Emma shrugs, pursing her lips. She's better than Hook at lying by far, when she has to.

"Nope. We never got that far." Emma realizes how that sounds, especially with the way that Snow's expression has changed. "That's _not_ what I mean." Exasperation is leaking through Emma's words. "There were a lot of things August never told me. I have questions for him, sure, and I'd love to have the answers." _Like why he took so long to find me... why he didn't hate me for rejecting him._ "But I don't even know if I can get them if we can't get back home. It's just not something I want to talk about." Emma tosses her hands into the air in resignation before letting them fall to her sides. "I can't do anything about it. I want to focus on what I _can_ do. And to get back home. Whatever I have to do to make that happen."

Snow smiles, but it's still sad. "We'll do it together. And then, we'll both ask August plenty of questions. Now you've just made me curious."

_Oh, great._

"Can we just..." Emma sighs, the mood having shifted considerably from Emma almost sobbing. "Can we deal with Captain Guyliner first? I'm trying to get over the fact that he's not Dustin Hoffman and he smells like the bottom of a tar barrel."

Snow chuckles. "Agreed."

"Snow White? Emma?" Mulan's voice cuts through their conversation, and both mother and daughter turn together to face the warrior woman. Mulan is standing, a hand on her sword hilt, her other hand propped on her hip, turned to the side, waiting for them. "Is everything all right?"

There's a pause as the two women look back at each other. There's a silent exchange of Snow giving her a look as to her condition. Emma nods, smiles a little.

"Yes, everything's fine." Snow replies as she tears her eyes away from her daughter. "We'll be there in a moment."

"Good." Mulan's voice is all business, but no one's surprised. "I think the pirate has led us to his destination." With that, Mulan has turned and left again.

Snow turns back, and Emma tries to put aside this nagging sensation that even with the candid conversation, she doesn't like that she's apparently given away her worries about August. "Let's go."

"Hey." Emma grabs Snow's arm, her eyes searching her face. "Thank you. For listening."

Snow softens, reaching out and patting Emma's hand. "Thank you for being honest with me."

Snow turns to follow Mulan's path, but Emma's feet won't move. She feels that stabbing pain of guilt again.

Honesty? It's supposed to always be the best policy.

But, how is she supposed to be honest to the woman she identifies as her mother when the truth would hurt so deeply?


End file.
